


A Softer World Would Have Let Us Leave

by ProjectFYERBIRD



Series: A Softer World [6]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Dark Past, Gallows Humor, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-02-28 23:21:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13282044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProjectFYERBIRD/pseuds/ProjectFYERBIRD
Summary: Every day I see the hitchhikers out on the highwayI could stand beside them, thumb out, leaving this little town behind,except, I haven't got any hands.(an amputee or  . . . something else?)- A Softer World





	A Softer World Would Have Let Us Leave

Your claws click together. The sound is disconcerting but no one says anything, partly because of who you are and partly because there's no one around to say anything. The newly restored Cybertronian landscape spreads out in front of you in its primordial state. Your old homes of Tetrahex and later Dead End are gone. Wiped out when Cybertron was reverted from a dead planet to some living, ancient thing. You don't like it. This planet isn't the one you called home, once upon a time. This planet is old and unfamiliar. Hell, even Earth feels more like home than this.

And in the distance, you can see where the _Lost Light_ is parked. You're probably going to join Rodimus on his quest for the 'Knights of Cybertron' if only to get off this alien world.

A ping from your comm. link brings you out of your thoughts. It's Whirl. You answer it. 

"Whirl," you greet, tone deceptively simple despite the emotions that churn within your spark. You aren't sure what you and him are now that the war has ended. During the war, when neither of you knew if you'd live to see the next day, it had been so clear.

"Hey, Y/N!" He tries to sound nonchalant but he's always sucked at that. "You thinking of going on the Lost Light? Heard they're accepting just about anybody."

You snort softly, settling into the soft shale as it crumbles beneath your plating. "There's this Earth tradition called hitchhiking that the humans have. They stick their thumbs out on the side of a road and hope somebody stops and picks them up. I was thinking of doing that." Your laugh is slightly self-depracating because you don't have any thumbs. Or hands. Whirl points that out with a snort.

"Yeah, 'cept you don't have any thumbs," he snickers through the link. "Hell, you don't even have any hands you slagger."

You both laugh in shrieking tones, hysterical and manic. When you stop, your chassis aches. 

"Whirl, where are you?"

He doesn't answer you. Instead he resets his vocalizer and you hear the sound of him clicking his claws together across the line. He's nervous, although you don't why and that's what puts you on edge. 

"I know I'm bad with words and . . .  _feelings_ . . . but I just wanted to let you know that we had during the war was . . . it was good." 

That 'it was good' from him is practically him telling you he loves you and your spark spins happily in its chamber. But something nags at the back of your processor. Why is he telling you this? And why now, of all times? Unless . . . unless . . . ah, scrap. 

"Whirl," you repeat with a new urgency in your voice, "where _are_ you?" 

"I always was good at goodbyes, wasn't I?" He says before severing the link.

Your transformation from robot mode to alt mode is as smooth as ever as your plating splits and reorders itself along transformation seams. Your engines come online with a whine as you take off, scorching the delicate shale.

It's time to save Whirl from himself.


End file.
